The Four Heroes
by UnicornPammy
Summary: Dyne, a backwoods youth inspired by stories of Dragonmasters and heroic deeds, sets out to become Althena's protector...and discovers it's not as easy as it sounds. Fortunately, he will find some help along the way, and more than a little trouble.
1. Chapter 1

**The Four Heroes**

**by: UnicornPammy**

**A/N:** Welcome, my dears, to this potentially epic story. I will hereby attempt to tell Dyne's story, and those of Mel, Lemia, Ghaleon, and even the Goddess herself. There will be a few other familiar characters, and some placed by my own hand. I realize that this has probably been done, but I must write this down. It isn't going away otherwise. I am posting it here in the hopes that someone will enjoy it. I appreciate reviews, but I will keep writing and posting anyway.

And can anyone tell me where I found the name Cassedonin? It sounded familiar to me when it popped in my head, and I almost didn't use it for fear of treading on someone's toes. But it fit him so well, it simply had to be his name. And so it stayed.

Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own anything.

I hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 1: Cass and Althena**

The old man climbed the alabaster spiral stair, knowing that it would be the last time he did so. He felt no sadness, no remorse, and no fear. Only a sense of release that carried his tired limbs effortlessly upward. There were no lights, for the walls themselves seemed to glow. The Goddess Tower provided its own light, evidence of its divine resident.

He felt foolish in the old familiar armor that was no longer so familiar. It was too loose in some places, rubbing him raw in others. The long fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword were gnarled and deformed with age and use, his pale hands liver-spotted and skeletal. He puffed only slightly as he climbed, and he was thankful for that much, at least. He would not appear before his Lady bent over and gasping for breath, leaning on his sword because he could not hold himself upright.

No, he would not shame himself that way. His Lady deserved every ounce of strength and determination he could muster. Anger at himself and his own feeble humanity burned away his weariness, and a frown transformed his creased face from a tired old man to a semblance of the warrior he once was. Fierce and unwavering in his loyalty to his Lady, merciful yet incredibly determined, he was at one time the mightiest warrior in the world, the Guardian of Althena, Dragonmaster, and one of the greatest Sorcerers the Magic Guild had ever seen. Now he was merely an old man, clad in ill-fitting armor, climbing a seemingly endless stairway to lay down his sword for the last time.

Finally, he would be able to rest.

The door appeared suddenly several steps ahead of him. He would have sworn that it wasn't there before. Cursing his weakened eyes, he stopped before the pristine, unmarked portal. The words of the incantation came unbidden into his mind, and instinctively he placed his left hand upon the exact center of the door, letting the spell flow from his lips as he did so. When the spell was completed, a thin, vertical line about two inches long appeared midway upon the right side of the door. As if he had done it every day, he touched the point of his sword to the glowing line. It slid smoothly into the flat, white plane, and when it was hilt deep, he gave it a little twist. There was the sound as of a latch opening, and the door swung inward on silent, unseen hinges. The door released his weapon easily, and he stepped into the dark opening before returning the blade to its sheath.

A whispered voice sang in his ear, the haunting ballad a strangely self-mocking counterpoint to the sweet words of love and compassion and kindness that followed the melody.

The room he entered was a large, round chamber; the old man knew it to be the very top of the Goddess Tower. It was filled with that bittersweet song, along with a few errant echoes of ancient hymns and a misty blue, sourceless light. The serenity he had always felt in this sacred space was now tainted with doubt, and he began to worry.

"My Lady?" His voice was soft, hesitant, unwilling to disturb the divine presence in any way.

"Yes, dearest Cassedonin?" Her voice was a gentle caress upon his mind.

He hadn't thought he would react so strongly to her presence after all of his years in her service, but he felt himself beginning to tremble. And he dreaded what he had to tell her.

"My Lady, I--" he found he couldn't say it. A terrible sense of failure engulfed him, and the resolve he had worked so hard to maintain suddenly left him. But the void where it had been moments before was soon filled with centuries of weariness.

"Cassedonin, your heart is troubled. What is this terrible thing you must tell me?"

He felt a twist of guilt in his chest. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he said, "My Lady, it is time for me to sleep."

There was silence in the Tower, and the infinite glow that had always illuminated the walls dimmed, fading slowly to complete darkness. Cassedonin waited, knowing he could not rush his timeless Lady.

After a period of time that seemed to last hours, but had probably eclipsed only moments, the soft luminescence returned, and standing before him in all her unearthly beauty was his Lady, the Goddess Althena. The garment she wore was as soft and fragile-looking as snowflakes, falling in intricate drapes and folds from her shoulders to her ankles. Her sapphire hair flowed in an unbound waterfall over her bare shoulders and down her back. Her skin was white and shimmering like starlight, and her eyes dark and depthless as eons. Her graceful hands were clasped together at her waist. She was ageless, eternal, at once infinitely wise and innocent as a child.

Even in his advanced age, he towered over her, but her presence seemed to fill the room to capacity, making him feel tiny, and as awestruck as he had been when he'd first seen her, so very many years ago.

Her expression was troubled, and the song that now filled his ears was one of sadness, confusion, and cold, empty loneliness. "Why do you wish to sleep, my Cassedonin?" Her voice betrayed a hint of anxiety, and Cassedonin knew that it would be difficult for him to convince her to let him rest. He drew a deep, weary breath, but was comforted when she moved to step into his open arms. Holding her close, he argued his case.

"It has been many, many years since I overcame the trials of the Dragons and became your Protector," he began, his voice calming further as she held him. "I have watched as all those I knew and loved grew old and died. I am weary, Althena. As much as I love you, I cannot go on living anymore. My heart will die long before my body does, and I do not wish to become that kind of creature. The kind that I have spent centuries fighting against. Would you wish that for me, Lady?" He looked down into her gentle face, seeing tears standing in her eyes. He realized suddenly that they were dancing, waltzing to the sad melody that came from Althena's heart. Her tears shone in the dim light of her chamber.

"Never, brave Cassedonin. I would never let that happen to you." She laid her head on his chest, holding him close as they danced. After a few turns around the chamber, her head still rested near his shoulder.

Her next words surprised him, more than anything else she had ever said to him. He barely heard her ask, in a voice as unsure as that of any young human, "What is it like to...to love someone?"

His brow furrowed in confusion. Had he heard her correctly? "Surely, my Lady, you know what it feels like to love. You of all beings." He scarcely noticed that his voice was richer, stronger than it had been for over three hundred years.

She lifted her head then, and her eyes were troubled. She pressed her lips together in consternation. "I know what it is like to have and to feel the love of millions. But one...I have never felt the love of only one." Her gaze turned inward, and for a few moments he knew that she did not see him, nor the chamber surrounding the both of them. Then she shook her head, and met his gaze. "It is a mother's burden. My love may not be reserved for one, but for all of my children. What is it like to love...only one?" She searched his eyes as she awaited his response, and he saw reflected in her brilliant eyes a sight he had not seen in years: a tall young man with curly black hair, properly filling out his armor, oiled sword sheathed professionaly at his hip. His strong warrior's body moved with vigor, his eyes glittered with determination and purpose. He could feel those same eyes widening, and his heart ached for the youth he had left behind, that which she was granting him one last time. Perhaps this was how she preferred to remember him, strong and young. Perhaps this was how she would always see him, and not as the tired old man so near the end of his life.

He twirled her about just to see her magnificent hair fly in a sapphire circle. He suddenly felt as if he had all the time in the world. When he held her close again, he considered her question, not quite sure how to begin. And then the words just came. "It feels warm and happy. At once you are filled with relief and excitement; relief that you have finally found your purpose, excitement because at last, you have something, someone to live for. It amounts to the same thing, I guess. When you love someone, you feel...safe. You have somewhere to rest your heart, someone to protect it. It is always knowing there's someone interested in what you have to say, someone who will comfort you in pain and sadness, join you in happiness, and support you in everything you do."

Althena's face wore an almost awestruck expression. "Amazing that one person can do so much."

"Indeed. It is at once the most wonderful, and the most frightening experience imaginable." Cassedonin smiled, turning her about the seemingly endless room at the top of the Goddess Tower, reveling in her grace and skill as a dancer. Of course the Goddess of Love and Beauty would be a wonderful dancer. She all but invented it. Her eyes, black as velvet and infinite as the universe, flickered up to meet his, drawing him in as she seemed to delve the depths of his mind, searching.

"You have loved one before."

Cassedonin nodded, then felt silly for doing so. It had not been a question. As if the Goddess Althena needed to ask what was in one's heart. .

Althena's eyes narrowed, as if she were considering something. "This woman you loved...if you saw her today, what would you say to her? What would you do?"

Cassedonin felt his throat tighten with emotion. And was amazed once again at her naivete. Didn't she know? Then he thought that perhaps she did know, that she always had. When he spoke next, his voice was gruff. "I would tell her I love her, and I would hold her, and dance with her. I would never leave her, ever again, if she could say that she loved only me." He gazed down at her, slowing his steps. When they stood still, facing each other, he caressed her right cheek with his fingertips, willing her to understand.

But he could see by the slight confusion in her eyes that she didn't understand. She couldn't. Besides confusion, there was also sadness, and he would have gladly handed up his soul to the King of Hell himself to obtain the power to rid her eyes of that deep, echoing sadness. She blinked away tears, and glanced away from him. "And if she couldn't say it?"

He pulled her close again, pressing her head gently to his shoulder. "Well, at least I could die knowing that I had told her, that I had given all of my life to her, without regret. I would never ask it back, for it was freely given, with all the love in my heart."

Althena's arms tightened around him. "I can feel the pain inside you," she said, "and I know that I am its cause. But for all my power, I do not know how to ease it." She pushed away from him, unable to look at him. "Forgive me, brave Cassedonin, but I cannot let you sleep, not yet." Her voice wavered. But then she looked up, and there was steel in her eyes. Another Althena he had never known.

"Before the Dragonmaster goes to his rest, he must seek out his replacement, and train that one to protect me. That is your final task. When you have completed it, then may you rest."

Bitter disappointment flooded him, centuries of weariness washed over him once more, bending him beneath its weight. But he refused to give in to it. "Anything for you, my Lady. Where am I to find this replacement?"

When Althena looked up again, she saw her Cassedonin as he truly was now, old...and weary. Ready, so ready to sleep.

"There is a village called Burg on Caldor Isle. You will find the next Dragonmaster there."

He took her hand and bowed low over it, kissing the back of it in reverence. When he straightened, he saw himself once again in her eyes, but they bore a different image this time. His eyes, once as green as sun-drenched fields, now were tinged with blue, and watery with age. He knew that she could not lift him above all, love him above all. But he loved her anyway, and as he said, he had never regretted it. Cassedonin straightened, not so tall in his age as he had been in his youth, but the bearing of a warrior was in his very bones. He placed a gnarled fist over his heart in salute, then turned and made his slow, weary way out of her chamber to begin his final mission.

When the door closed behind him, he thought he heard weeping from the other side.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Four Heroes **

**by UnicornPammy**

**A/N:** Perhaps because of the setting and overall feel of the game, I find that my prose is, for me, unusually flowery. I apologize if this is irritating, but I suppose it fits. I am enjoying writing this story, even if it is taking a while to get it down. As of this moment, I have far more pages of notes than of actual story, so it may take a while longer yet. Bear with me, friends, few that you may be. I am hoping that the journey for you will be as interesting as it is for me. And please remember that I adore reviews, in whatever form they may take. Actually, I am looking for criticism, positive and negative. It's great to know what I'm doing right, but it's also great to know what I'm doing wrong.

Enjoy!

**Chapter 2: The Star, the Spring, and the Storyteller**

The Blue Star hung silent and implacable in the late afternoon sky. It was the harvest season, and though most of the trees had shed their leaves, it was still quite warm during the day; and what else was there for a boy caught between childhood and adolescence to do on a warm, drowsy afternoon but lie on his back in the brown grass and stare up at the sky? A few stars were already showing, defying the red afternoon sun that was slowly settling itself down beyond the horizon.

"Dyne!" The well-known voice carried to him on the wind, stirring up a long-suffering sigh that burst from his lips and sent the grass stem on which he'd been chewing flying up into the breeze, only to flutter back down into his nut brown hair.

"What now?" he muttered, swiping the grass stem from his hair and pulling himself slightly up out of his reclining position. He peered over the top of the swaying grass, trying to spot the owner of the annoying voice. At first he didn't see anyone. "Dyne!" He ducked back down. The brat was almost right on top of him! He needed to hide somewhere, and fast.

"Found you!"

Oh, no...

"Go away, Brat," Dyne said over the triumphant crowing of his younger brother, Bretton.

"Don't call me Brat, Dimwit." Bretton put his hands on his hips, the late-afternoon sunlight setting his white-blonde hair afire. "Mother says you need to come home, it's almost dinnertime.

Dyne lay back down, staring up at the darkening sky. A few more stars were now visible, and the Blue Star had taken on a ruddy hue as the sun set. "I'm not hungry."

Bretton flopped down next to his older brother, imitating Dyne's pose with his hands stacked behind his head and his knees poking up at the sky. "Mother says that if you're not hungry, then you can just go on to bed."

"She did not."

"She did so. She said that if you said you weren't hungry, I was to tell you that you had to go to bed early. That's exactly what she said."

"Did not."

"Did so."

"Did not."

"Did so!"

"Dyne! Bretton!"

"On, no!" Bretton said, half sitting up, his eyes wide with apprehension. "Where can we hide?"

Dyne rolled his eyes. Where was a guy supposed to get some peace and quiet?

"I can hear you talking!" Dyne and Bretton's little sister, Strenna, yelled.

Bretton lifted his head up and glared at his sister. "Go away, Strawberry!"

"Shut up, Brat. Mother says you're both to come to dinner."

"Yeah, well, we're not hungry," Bretton replied.

"Mother says that if you're not hungry, you're to go to bed right away. And you _won't_ get to hear the storyteller."

"Storyteller?!" Bretton immediately shot upright. "When did a storyteller come?"

Strenna's voice was irritatingly superior. "While you two were up here staring at that dumb Star."

Dyne gave another long-suffering sigh, trying his best to ignore his two younger siblings. He wasn't having much success. He stubbornly kept his gaze trained on the Blue Star as his little strawberry-blonde sister approached their flattened place in the tall grass. Strenna put her little fists on her hips and stamped a bare foot. "If you don't come right now, I'm going back to tell Mother, and then you'll both be in trouble."

Bretton jumped up. "Come on, Dyne, a storyteller!" His brother and sister waited until he got to his feet before they started for home. It was a rare occurence when someone new, especially an entertainer, came to the village when it wasn't time for the Goddess Festival.

The sun had almost completely disappeared beyond the mountains to the west, rimming twilight's shadows with a last little bit of reddish-gold light. Dyne watched his siblings race each other out of sight; then he made his own way, quite a bit slower, down the hill toward Burg proper. When he reached the bottom of the hill, he saw his family's small house, and his siblings disappearing inside. Dyne stopped, staring at the little cottage made of wood. A storyteller. He felt a small urge to go inside, but there was a stronger urge pulling at him, directing him toward his favorite place. Well, besides the hilltop where he went to look at the Blue Star. He bypassed the house, making his way toward the opening in the woods that marked the path he intended to take. He had made this trip so many times, he could have done it in complete darkness without a single misstep.

The peace of the spring reached out to him as he neared, drawing him into its calming embrace. But tonight it could not pacify him; instead he felt restless, more than usual. He gazed out at the familiar scene, searching for the serenity that hovered just above the surface of the water. As if by a divine hand, white stepping stones were scattered in a mosaic across the blue water. Ancient stone gargoyles stood just above the crystalline surface, and spring water flowed from their open mouths. No one now living knew exactly what had been here, or whether it was time or some other force that had leveled what was probably once a very large, imposing structure. Or even why anyone would want to put a large, imposing structure at the mostly-uninhabited northern tip of Caldor Isle.

Dyne inhaled deeply, trying to draw the calm and peace that floated on the air into his lungs. His restlessness abated somewhat, but there was still an urgency that flowed through his blood. He moved down to the water's edge, knealing and dipping in a finger. It was an unconscious act of testing the temperature, but he would never swim here. His mother's warnings against desecrating so sacred a place were frequent and fierce. Although sometimes he found himself dipping his cupped palm into the water and bringing it up to his mouth to drink, the act was more one of communion than an attempt to quench any thirst.

Today, he felt no such compunction. He was irritable, wanting to be alone, and yet frustrated by his loneliness. So he sat on an ancient white stone and tried to lose himself in the quiet rush of water and the sounds of small animals moving about, chattering and chirping at one another. He raised his face into a sudden breeze, and was startled to hear a voice carried upon it. A pure, beautiful voice filled with love and adoration. He looked around, but saw no one. Immediately he got to his feet, scanning the trees edging the spring, straining to hear the voice again, the voice that was so familiar.

There it was! But it sounded as if it came from all directions, echoing as it did from the tumbled white marble and the surface of the water. It was almost as if it emerged from the very air itself. His heart pounded furiously. Was it...could it be...the Lady herself? Althena? He fell to his knees once more and clasped his hands, bowing his head in a posture of prayer, sure he was about have a religious experience.

The song stopped, and he heard male laughter, muffled though it was by the sound of splashing water from the gargoyle fountains. His eyes snapped open, disappointment burning in his chest. He definitely knew _that_ voice. Dyne stood slowly, then moved around the edge of the spring, heading for a small secluded spot he knew quite well. It was a room that had been part of the old structure; somehow three of its walls and a bit of roof had remained intact while the rest of the ancient building had crumbled over the centuries.

As small children, he and his best friend Noah had used it as a secret hideout. Now, it was a place where Noah and his sweetheart Sara would meet, the only place where they could have any privacy in the tiny village. He felt very certain that's who was there now. And it was Sara singing, entertaining Noah. The quality of her voice was known throughout several nearby villages.

Dyne, dispirited and lonelier than ever, sat quietly on the other side of one of the walls, and listened to their conversation.

"I want to see so many things, Sara," Noah was saying. "The Goddess Temple, the Magic City that floats above it... Can you imagine looking up and seeing a city floating in the clouds?" His voice was filled with awe.

"I'd be afraid it would fall." Sara's voice was skeptical, pragmatic.

"It can't fall, Sara. The Goddess herself holds it in the sky." Noah's superior tone was so like Strenna's when she spoke earlier of the storyteller. Dyne had to hold back the laughter that bubbled up through his churning emotions.

"I heard it was the members of the Magic Guild that keep it in the sky. What if their magic stops working?"

Dyne could feel the tension as silence stretched between them.

Then Noah spoke, his voice tinged with anger. "Sara, why do you--"

"I just don't want you to go anywhere!" Dyne heard her tears even if he couldn't see them. "Please don't leave me. Please stay with me. Please..."

Noah made soothing noises, quiet promises of acquiescence. But Sara would not be soothed. "How can we get married if you go off and get hurt in some strange place?"

"Married?" Noah sounded dazed.

"And how can we raise our children together if you're not here?"

"Children?" Noah sounded out of breath.

Dyne could listen no more. He stood just as silently as he had sat and quit the beauty and serenity of his sanctuary, no longer his alone. He made his way home, his heart so heavy it felt as if it must have been hanging somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach, instead of perching proudly behind his breastbone.

But still that urgency burned in him, pushing him into a run. He shot forth from the spring clearing, out into the meadow just south of the village. He ran right up to the front door of his house, bending over and grasping his knees when he reached it, his lungs feeling as if they might burst. And yet he hadn't wanted to stop at his front door. He'd wanted to keep running, past his house, away from Burg, all the way to the sea. Beyond, if he could manage it.

He regained his breath, and reached for the door, the wooden latch smooth beneath his fingers, very familiar in his hand. And he hated that familiarity. Even as he turned the latch, his entire being was yearning for something _different,_ something _new._ Something that would give his boring life some _meaning._

Trying to avoid having to talk to anyone, Dyne tucked his head as he entered his home and moved across the main room toward the ladder that led to the loft he shared with Bretton. His father's voice stopped him.

"Dyne," came the deep, quiet voice of his bear-like sire. "You should show some respect and say hello to our guest."

Dyne's head snapped up. All eyes in the room were now trained upon him. Four pairs he knew; one was quite unfamiliar. They were ancient, blueish-green, watery eyes. They belonged to an old man with curly white hair circling his crown and falling from his chin in long, soft waves. He wore an ancient gray traveling robe; a tall, twisted walking stick leaned against the wall behind his chair.

The storyteller was _here?_ Dyne had expected him to be holding court at the inn, not sitting in Dyne's own chair at the family dinner table. He found himself unable to speak, pinned as he was by the old man's searching eyes.

"Forgive him, Learned," came the half-amused, half-stern voice of Dyne's father. Dyne saw his father's dark eyes twinkling, and his dark brown beard twitched as he smiled at his eldest son. "He does not usually take up residence in doorways. He is simply awed by your presence."

Dyne blinked and shook himself, feeling as if he were suddenly coming awake after having slept for a very long time. He looked up, and once more felt himself pierced by those sharp, odd-colored eyes.

"Learned," his father spoke again. "This is our eldest, Dyne."

The eyes narrowed, regarding him quite closely. Dyne almost felt as if he were undergoing some sort of test.

"Dyne, say hello to our guest," his father urged again.

Dyne opened his mouth. When he could find no words, he simply bowed his head in a slow, deferential nod.

When he raised his head, he saw an approving smile on the old man's face.

"Well met, Dyne of Burg." His voice rumbled like that of a bear, surprisingly strong for one so old. The storyteller offered Dyne a nod of his own. "I am most pleased to meet you. My name is Cass."


	3. Chapter 3

**The Four Heroes **

**by UnicornPammy**

**A/N:** I feel as though I'm rushing this part a bit, but I really don't have much more to say. I'm sure as I get farther along I'll think, "Well, I guess I should have explained this a little earlier," and "That won't make any sense if I put it in now," etc... So, we're just gonna go with it, and damn the torpedoes. Please let me know what you think.

Also as I write this I'm feeling a lot of similarities between the beginning of SSSC and Dyne's story. I suppose that's to be expected, since people were constantly telling Alex that he was basically walking the same path as Dyne. But I don't want it to just be a copy, even if it is supposed to be the "original" copy. So I'll try to keep an eye on that. I hope you enjoy. : )

**Disclaimer:** Most of these people don't belong to me. The ones who do, you know who you are. Be home by 10, or else.

**Chapter 3: Angels Falling and Rising**

Her senses were muffled, everything so unclear. Her limbs were heavy and gangly, getting in her way as she tried to move, to lift herself up from the cold stone floor. She was clothed only in the curtain of her hair, cold and angry to be thus. Angry, and afraid.

Afraid because her mind was closed to the world around her, her own thoughts echoing loudly inside her mind. For how long had the voices of the children of Lunar spoken to her, praying to her, praising her? It felt empty, not having those voices speaking to her all at the same time. Never before had loneliness struck her so profoundly.

Had her power, her very essence, abandoned her as well? Again, fear struck her. And she found she could not even try to use it, her power. What if nothing happened?

She got her feet under her and stood, swaying a bit. Why did it take so much effort just to stand? Of course, before, she had no need of legs. They had merely been an affectation to pacify her children. She didn't realize they went through this agony every day just to move about. She took a step, still wobbly, her arms splayed as she fought for balance.

There was pain in her stomach, a feeling at once of tightness and emptiness. Was this _hunger_, this awful sensation her children prayed against? Placing her hands on her abdomen, she could feel a vibration beneath them as her stomach almost seemed to turn itself over inside of her. Was this _supposed _to happen?

She took another step, feeling the searing cold beneath the soles of her feet. A gasp escaped her throat as one of her ankles rolled the wrong way and she nearly fell. She caught herself and found her balance again, then took another step. And another and another, until she was at the door to her chamber. It was merely a plain door now, unlike the magical portal that allowed only a select few of her children into her presence. A simple wooden door, with hinges and an iron latch. She reached out with one shaking hand and fumbled with the latch until she figured out the mechanism. The door swung inward, creaking slightly. And below her, a seemingly endless stairway, curving away into the darkness. The only light came from the glass ceiling of her chamber, which permitted a splash of cheery sunlight into the large circular room. She looked back at it, and felt more fear. No light reached beyond the curve of the stair, she knew. How could it? Natural light traveled in straight lines only, and without her power to bend it, she would be forced to use her other senses to guide her once she left her chamber.

Once she left her chamber...

How long had she kept herself here, locked inside oblivion? True, she had the voices of her children to keep her company, but how long had it been since she'd ventured forth into the world she had created for them? She couldn't even remember why her self-imposed containment had begun. She only knew that it was time for it to be over. Placing one hand on the wall of the stairway, she took her first step out of the chamber. Her first step into the human world.

She did not look back.

* * *

Dyne straddled the ridgepole of the roof of Cass's tiny cabin, naked back stinging from the slap of the sun's heat, sweat dripping into his eyes. He was pounding away at a section of roof of which he was in the process of replacing. He could ignore discomfort when the old man was relating a new story, or even an old, beloved tale, seated in his rocking chair under an old shade oak just a few yards from the front porch. From there Cass could watch Dyne's progress and keep him company. 

"I had another dream about Althena," Dyne said from his perch atop the roof. In the four years since Old Cass had come to Burg, he and Dyne had formed a strong bond, forged in their mutual obsession over Althena's succession of Dragonmasters, and the amazing stories surrounding the phenomenon. After Dyne finished his daily chores on his parents' farm, he would often wander over to Cass's small plot of land and tend to any work that Cass could not take care of by himself.

Dyne was not the only one of his parents' children to help the old storyteller. Not far away, ten-year-old Strenna was weeding Cass's vegetable garden, saving the weeds in a flat wooden box so that she could later transplant them to the weed patch. It was just to humor the old man, who said that all living things were created and loved by Althena, and to kill any of her children would be a crime against her. Strenna was humming to herself, not paying any attention at all to Dyne and Cass. Cass's stories seemed to bore her, and she spent most of her time making up imaginary tales of her own.

"Was it the one about the twins again? I like that dream..."

Dyne lifted a rueful brow at the old storyteller's comment, his cheeks tingeing a slight red as he regretted--once again--ever relating that dream to his friend. "No, this one was new. It wasn't any of the Dragonmasters you've told me about so far. I saw Her dancing with an armored man inside a white tower," Dyne continued. "She looked very lonely, even though She wasn't alone." Dyne stopped, remembering how he wished he could have been there. Then Althena wouldn't have been lonely. He was jealous of the tall, strong-looking man with black curls escaping from his red helm, an indomitable will glowing in his rich green eyes. A true warrior, Dyne knew.

"The Goddess is indeed very lonely, young friend," Cass said, his voice turning somber. He continued his rocking, and a small breeze tugged at his white hair and beard.

Dyne wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm, pondering Cass's comment for a moment. "But why?"

The old man's smile was slow and sad. His eyes, those piercing blue-green eyes, seemed to see a landscape very far away. "Because there is no one else like Her in all the world. She truly is alone."

Dyne sighed, and bent once more to his task, his heart heavy with some unnamed emotion. The breeze dried the sweat on his skin, but he didn't notice. "I wish there was something I could do," he said softly, laying down another plank of smooth wood and hammering it in place.

"Perhaps there is, my boy. Perhaps there is."

Dyne missed a nail and smashed his thumb with the hammer. Biting back a curse, he threw the heavy tool in sudden anger, then stuck his throbbing thumb into his mouth. He sucked on it, then pulled it out to inspect the damage. "What can _I_ do?" he said suddenly, louder than he had intended. "I'm stuck here in this nothing of a village, fixing an old man's roof when I should be--" he waved at the horizon, seeming to run out of words and anger at the same time. "Out there," he finished quietly. He took a deep breath and sighed. "I'm sorry, Cass. I just don't see what I can do to help a Goddess. I mean, I'm down here, and She's..." he gazed up at the sky. He glanced at Cass when he heard the old man chuckling. "What?"

Cass shook his head, his smile holding decades of knowledge that Dyne could only guess at. "Do you think She measures worth only in great feats of courage? Even the smallest task aids Her. The smallest speck of order can defeat an entire world of chaos."

Dyne raised a brow once again, this time in confusion. "What?"

Cass was silent for a long moment. Dyne thought the old man might have fallen asleep, when suddenly he started speaking again as if there had been no interruption. "Consider young Strenna, there. You think her work is foolish, do you not? But look what she does: she creates order among chaos. The weeds she pulls do not consider themselves weeds. They, too, deserve life. And so she removes them from the area where they do harm, and puts them in a place where they can thrive. The Goddess looks down on her and smiles. Can't you feel it?" The old man spread his hands, palm up, closed his eyes, and lifted his face to the dappled afternoon sunlight filtering down through the leaves of his tree.

All Dyne could feel was the blood pulsing painfully in his smashed thumb. And he didn't understand how pulling weeds would keep Althena from being lonely.

Cass opened one of his eyes, regarding Dyne. Dyne knew his expression radiated skepticism, though he tried to hide it. The old storyteller let out a weary sigh, lowering his arms. "Perhaps you are too young yet. Perhaps...you are not..." He shook his head. "It does not matter now." That odd gaze found Dyne again, this time sharp and assessing. "And yet...he has the green eyes."

Dyne felt a tinge of worry. Cass was not young, no, but he was possessed of a sharp intellect. Dyne had never heard him speak like this, as if he were talking to someone who wasn't there. "Cass?"

With a sudden, jerky movement, Cass levered himself up from his chair, looking very wobbly and small from Dyne's viewpoint. The storyteller retrieved his tall, twisted walking stick from where he'd leaned it against the tree, and started shuffling toward the door of his house. "It is time for a little rest," Dyne thought he heard Cass mutter, and found himself worried yet further. His friend was not one to nap in the middle of day. Never had Old Cass seemed so...old.

Dyne swung one leg over the peak of the low roof and slid down to the ground, flexing his knees so that he landed in a crouch. He quickly gained Cass's side, giving his old friend a young shoulder to lean on. A bit disturbed by Cass's words and sudden feeble manner, Dyne helped him into his cottage, leading him to the bed. He went back out to fetch a mug of water from the well, thinking perhaps Cass had spent too much time in the sun today. When he ducked back inside the old man's home, Cass had already gotten in bed and pulled a thin coverlet over himself. Dyne stared down at the fragile fingers clutching the cotton coverlet his own mother had woven at her loom; at the fine, wispy white hairs framing his face and the sunken, weary eyes, and thought for the very first time that perhaps Cass's end would not be long in coming. The thought frightened him.

"Green eyes," Cass muttered to himself. "You have the...green eyes."

"Good rest to you, Cass," Dyne whispered, then started to leave. He was stopped by an iron grip on his wrist. Startled, he turned back. His breath caught when he saw that Cass's eyes were wide open, and they were no longer a watery blueish-green, but a true green, the verdant hue of sun-drenched fields. They glowed with determination and an iron will, a sight that struck some deep chord of recognition inside of him.

"You must promise me. You _must _promise me," Cass said, his voice the strongest it had been since that night they had first met, Cass seated in Dyne's chair, Dyne trapped in the doorway. "Promise me you will protect Her. Promise me!"

Dyne, startled by the old man's sudden vigor, stammered, "I-I promise."

Cass sighed, relief and wearines mingling in his expression. He quickly fell asleep, still clutching Dyne's wrist. Dyne gently disengaged the old man's grip, and quietly left the cottage.

Strenna met him just as he was walking out of the door. "What was he talking about? I couldn't quite hear him. He said my name, didn't he?"

"Nothing, just one of his stories. Finish the garden, and then go home. He needs rest."

"He sounded angry in there. What did you say to him?"

Irritated, Dyne grabbed her shoulders. "I didn't say anything. And he wasn't angry, just tired. Now, go finish what you were doing and go home. I'll be there after I finish the roof." He let her go, placing his hands on his hips, waiting for her to do as he said. She looked skeptical, but went back to the garden. Dyne retrieved his hammer from where it had fallen when he'd thrown it, then used the porch railing to climb back onto the roof, and continued his own work. Every so often he caught Strenna watching him, an odd expression on her face. Pretty soon she left, and he finished his work as quietly as he could, not wanting to disturb Cass, but knowing he couldn't just leave a gaping hole in the roof. His thoughts were hard to pin down, jumping from one topic to another. Who was it that needed protecting? How was he going to keep his promise, if he didn't even know what he had promised to do?

_"She truly is alone..."_

Had the old man been speaking of Althena? The thought made his heart hammer inside his chest. How in the world could he protect Althena, the Goddess herself?

The words that next came into his mind almost seemed to have been placed there by some invisible hand. _Become a Dragonmaster._

The statement so startled him, he almost smashed his thumb again. Become a Dragonmaster? The beating of his heart became almost painful. How could he do that?

And he realized he'd been listening to the _how _for four years, seated at Cass's feet or working under his gaze

Then reality intruded. What if they had only been stories? Tales to brighten a rainy day, or entertain a bored child. What if there wasn't any truth to them at all? He shook his head. They were just stories. Stories for children. Fairy tales.

And yet... He gazed at the horizon once more, seeing the mountains spiking up through the clouds to the northeast; not seeing but knowing that Saith lay to the southwest, its harbor filled with merchant ships waiting to unload the cargoes of textiles and produce found only on the continent, waiting to take on cargoes of the precious boiled sap from the rare elpam trees that grew only on Caldor Isle. How much was out there for him to see? How much would he miss if he spent his entire life here in dull old Burg?

The sun was almost touching the tops of the trees to the west. He had to hurry and complete his task before the light was gone. When he finished patching the roof, he cleaned up his mess and his supplies, putting everything away in the tiny tool shed over by the vegetable patch. After checking on Cass one more time--still sleeping, poor old man--he put his shirt back on against the growing evening chill and started to make his way home. Except he didn't go home. His feet were taking him in a familiar direction, and he didn't even try to change his course. The peace of the spring reached out to him, gathering him in like a mother's arms pulling an infant to her breast. He could not resist.

He followed the music of running water until he was right on the edge of it. He squatted, looking down at his own reflection on the placid surface. He saw nut brown hair in need of a trim, a dirt- and sweat-streaked face. And within that face, green eyes.

_You have the green eyes..._

What did the old man mean when he said that? And Cass's eyes had changed color, too. They were exactly the same as the ones of the man who had danced with Althena in his dream. Had _Cass _been a Dragonmaster in his youth? What did green eyes have to do with anything? The color of a person's eyes didn't make him or her a Dragonmaster. It _had _to be more than that.

He reached out and touched the reflection, watching his own face ripple and whorl away in the tiny wavelets his fingers caused. "What should I do, Lady?" He had raised his head, posing his question to the Blue Star. "I think I just promised to protect You. But I don't know how." His gaze returned to his shattered reflection in the rippling water. "I don't know how to become a Dragonmaster."

He waited, but no answer came. There was only the glow of the Blue Star, the music of the water, and the singing twilight. Dyne settled back on his haunches, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He lowered his forehead into his arms, searching for peace. Sleep found him instead.

* * *

The earth moved beneath him and a resounding roar split the air, stabbing at his ear drums. Dyne lifted his head from his folded arms, disoriented by the rolling ground, the loud noise, and the sudden cramp in his neck. He fell to his side as he clutched at his ears. As the roar died down, he realized that _he _was still screaming, and his throat was raw from it. He stopped screaming and simply lay there, panting, heart pounding as adrenaline poured through his body. 

What, in the name of the Lady, was _that_? He pushed himself up from the rock on which he lay and looked around to see if there was any damage to the spring and the surrounding woods. He couldn't see much in the darkness, but everything looked pretty much the same, if a little flatter. Some of the ancient white temple stones had toppled from the remaining stacks, and a few of the older trees had leaned a bit onto their neighbors.

When Dyne stood, his legs were shaking. In fact, all of him was shaking, and he felt an odd urge to scream and sob and laugh at the same time. He pushed trembling fingers through his hair, trying to soothe his emotions.

And then he thought of his family. Spinning away from the spring, he jumped into a flat-out sprint, up the path to the meadow, toward his small home at the base of the hilltop, praying that when he reached it he wouldn't find a heap of rubble instead of a house.

_"Dyne!"_ His name, called so sharply, echoed across the night-drenched meadow. His gaze swept the silvery grass, but he could not tell who was running toward him from the opposite side of the meadow, and he did not stop. He had to see his family, to know they were all right.

His feet flying, he reached the door within moments of leaving the spring. A second set of footsteps sounded right behind him, and a hand fell heavily onto his shoulder. Twisting briefly to glance behind him, Dyne saw Noah bent at the waist, breathing heavily. "You run...too fast," Noah panted, perspiration darkening his red hair to a dull brown. Dyne ignored him and turned the latch, walking into his house. Noah's hand slid from his shoulder.

It was dark inside. He started calling out to his parents and his siblings, but all he heard was the echo of his own voice.

"Dyne," Noah said, still rather breathless. "Wait."

Again, Dyne ignored him and opened the door into his parents' room. He called out to them again, moving around by feel and memory. Could they possibly have slept through all that? But their bed was empty. He left their room and climbed the ladder up to the loft. Light from the Blue Star shone in through the small window. He had not realized when he was outside just how bright the Blue Star was tonight. He saw his and Bretton's pallets, made up and ready for sleep. It had to be near the middle of the night, and yet Bretton had not even mussed his blankets.

His panic rising with each breath, he slid back down the ladder, his feet not even touching the rungs, and moved to Strenna's small alcove next to the cold fireplace. Nothing, except her few belongings. Her bedding, the trunk that held her clothes, and the little doll their mother had purchased from a peddler when Strenna was five. He picked up the doll, remembering his mother's defense of the extravagant purchase. His father had been sternly disapproving, but his mother had not backed down. "Every little girl needs a pretty doll."

He held the toy close, turning to see Noah standing in the doorway.

"Dyne, they're in the square," Noah said, his breathing still slightly labored. "Everyone's in the square."

"Are they...all there?"

Noah nodded. "Yeah, all of them. Come on. Let's go."

Dyne mimicked his friend's nod, his adrenaline draining, suddenly feeling a bit numb. "Let's go."

He followed Noah out of his house, and they jogged at a brisk trot toward the town square. He heard the murmur of voices and saw the glow of torch light long before they reached the center of the village.

And then he thought to wonder how everyone had come to congregate here so quickly. It had hardly been a quarter of an hour since the earthquake and noise awakened him at the spring. Indeed, Noah had left the square to come find him. Why were they all here...already?


End file.
